Carderos is a popular fish restaurant set on Coal Harbour Quay on the banks of the River Fraser, in downtown Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. On the evening my wife and I dined there the place was packed, and a constant stream of people waiting at the bar meant that no table was free for long, whilst a vocalist with an acoustic guitar struggled to make himself heard above the accumulated noise of friendly discourse.
Shortly after we arrived, the table next to us was offered
to a young couple. We exchanged courteous nods and smiles of acknowledgement before
returning to our own private conversations. However, my position at a right-angle
to their table, meant that our immediate dining neighbours were always in my
line of view. It was for that reason that I noticed the waiter arrive at their
table with two glasses of champagne, and overheard the following:
‘The chef sends his compliments, and in light of today
being a day of reconciliation, is pleased to offer you these drinks on the
house.’
The young couple looked surprised, made a gesture of thanks
to the waiter and then gave a long meaningful look at each other before the
woman shrugged, raised her glass, took a sip and set the glass to one side.
Neither glass was again touched throughout the evening.
I have reflected on that scene ever since, and especially considering
some illumination provided by a trip to the Museum of Vancouver the following
day.
Located in Vanier Park, the Museum of Vancouver is a civic
history museum, providing details of the development of Vancouver as a
settlement and its subsequent journey to a modern-day city. The museum is
located on land which forms part of the traditional territories of the indigenous
Musqueam and Squamish nations, who existed long before the first European
settlers arrived, even longer before the area became known as Vancouver, and
some 1,000 to 1,500 years before the Dominion of Canada came into existence. It
is thus that the museum also has a major exhibition in respect to the history
of the Musqueam and Squamish nations and documents the struggles these nations
have had since the first European settlers arrived. It is a tale that is replicated
across Canada with the many other indigenous nations (the First Nations as they
are collectively named).
In short, the latter is an appalling tale of oppression. It
is a tale of cultural genocide and ethnocide, which is only now starting to be
rectified by the Canadian government with a series of financial compensations
and actions in respect to housing, justice, healthcare, education, community
projects, income assistance, and measures for a degree of self-government. As
part of that process of acknowledgement and rectification, 1996 saw the 21st
June being named as National Aboriginal Day; a day renamed in 2017 as National
Indigenous Peoples Day. In addition to which, since 2013, many people have
observed a day of remembrance and reflection on the 30th September in
respect to the atrocities carried out against the many missing and murdered children
from indigenous nations, who were forced to attend residential schools in an effort
to weaken their cultural lineage and assimilate them into the ways of European
life, language, and culture during the 18th century. Initially known
as ‘Orange Shirt Day’ (the story of which can be read here),
the day was made a Statutory Holiday in 2021, and renamed the National Day for
Truth and Reconciliation. As the website states, it is ‘a day to remember,
mourn, learn, unlearn, and grow. It's also a chance to honour the survivors,
families, and communities affected by residential schools’.
Which takes me back to our evening in the Carderos
restaurant, an evening which, purely by chance, was on the National Day for
Truth and Reconciliation. As a further coincidence, the young couple sat at the
table next to ours clearly had indigenous heritage. It was for both those
reasons that they were presented with the pro gratis champagne. However,
although no doubt well intentioned by the chef patron, I couldn’t help but
wonder whether the gift was wide of the mark and a sign of how far the process
of reconciliation has to travel. Certainly, the champagne was not appreciated
by the couple, as they did not drink it. Of course, it may be that they dislike
champagne, or don’t drink alcohol. Nonetheless, it was their meaningful exchange
of a loaded look that suggested a far deeper consideration. After all, champagne
is frequently used as a celebratory drink. Is a day for ‘truth and reconciliation’
something to be celebrated, especially bearing in mind the reasons it came
about? Furthermore, the history of champagne is steeped in European culture.
Perhaps it was not the most subtle of choices as a gift on a day set aside to
remember the misguided European attempts to socially integrate the First
Nations.
As a member of the Squamish nation said in a recorded
interview to be heard in the Museum of Vancouver, Europeans were welcomed as guests
to their territories, but ever since have acted as conquerors. For me, and I
suspect for the indigenous couple, those untouched glasses of champagne were unintentionally
symbolic of that fact, however well-meant the gift.
I was left with the impression that the wounds are deep,
and the process of truth and reconciliation in Canada has a long journey ahead.
I sense that those wounds will only start to heal once a better clarity of insight
and understanding is gained by those who, even now, should be acting as guests.
